Not that he’d tell her boys or, if her guess was correct, anyone else about that.
And, ethically, Valerie couldn’t say a word, either.
She was sitting on the floor of her room, leaning against the far wall under the windows. As far from the bed as she could get.
And she’d put on a pair of sweats with her sleep shirt, too.
“I don’t think he was busy,” Kirk was saying.
“Why?” Senses honed, Valerie sat forward, her arms on her upraised knees. She shouldn’t have asked. And she shouldn’t be paying such careful attention to anything and everything her sons told her about Abraham Billings. It wasn’t right.
And yet, with a boy’s life possibly at stake, how could she not? Would it be right for her not to do everything she could to protect a boy under her care?
“I don’t think he’s ever busy,” Kirk said. “He sits at home with headphones on and plays video games.”
“How do you know that?”
“Listening to him talking with the team, mostly. He has a tendency to quote alternative-rock lyrics, and when some of the guys asked him why he’s so good at it, he said he listens to them every night. Twelve years old and he spends his nights listening to alternative rock.” Kirk sighed. Valerie knew he was worried about Abraham. She wished she could discuss the case with him. Fill in some of the blanks. Ask for his opinion. “And when he’s discussing strategy or explaining a move on the court, he’ll often preface it with ‘It’s like the video game I was playing last night…”’
“That doesn’t mean he spends his nights—”
“I ask him,” Kirk told her. “Every day I ask what he did the night before.”
She hadn’t realized he was that involved. But she should’ve known. It didn’t surprise her.
“So maybe he’s just giving a pat answer to avoid your question,” she said now, running her fingers through the curls hanging over her shoulder. Hoping the boy wasn’t shut off in his room at one end of the trailer every night while his mother conducted business at the other end.
“He’s been working all week to beat the Fire Wizard on ‘Earth Invasion.’ I get a report at every practice.”
Oh.
“And I’ve tried to call him a couple of times this week, just like I’ve called the other boys, to remind them to tell their parents what time the bus will get back to school after the games. He never picks up. Because he’s constantly wearing headphones.”
“What about his mother?” Valerie asked, curling her bare toes into the carpet. “She’s never home to answer the phone?”
“He says she’s home, but working. I guess she’s some kind of bookkeeper or something.”
Yeah, that was what they’d heard, too. Except that she could never produce a firm for whom she worked, or a pay stub, or any evidence of a license or college degree…
God, this was hard. Being two people at once. Both of whom wanted to do what was right for this child.
“That’s not the worst of it,” Kirk said. “Tonight he hung around school for a long time after practice.” His voice was hesitant, as though he was choosing his words carefully. Or maybe he just wasn’t sure he should be speaking to a parent about someone else’s child.
Valerie
wasn’t sure he should be, either. And couldn’t stop him if her life depended on it.
“Was he waiting for a ride?” she asked, pretending she knew nothing more about the boy than what Kirk was telling her.
“That’s what he said, but I left shortly after he did—and saw him walking home.”
“Does he know you saw him?”
“No.”
“So why do you think he was hanging around?”
“I don’t know,” Kirk said, and Valerie could hear a note of worry. “But what I think I saw was fear. Which makes no sense at all.”